


Echoes of the Shots Ring Out (we may be the first to fall)

by Elover05



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blackwatch Era, Blackwatch Jesse McCree, Blackwatch Sombra | Olivia Colomar, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Los Muertos Sombra | Olivia Colomar, Medical Inaccuracies, Minor Ana Amari, Sombra | Olivia Colomar-centric, Temporary Character Death, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elover05/pseuds/Elover05
Summary: Sombra always knew this was going to be the outcome. All her efforts, no matter how strong, no matter how desperate, were never going to be enough to save her from an early death.And yet, despite it all, she wants to live. She wants to fight. She wants to scream and rage and mourn. She wants… she wants… she wants…She wants to call Jesse.
Relationships: Ana Amari & Jesse McCree, Jesse McCree/Sombra | Olivia Colomar
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! So I don't normally write angst, but this idea has been living in my mind rent-free for a long time now, so I had to write it.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! <3  
> Oh, and also keep in mind that in all my young McSombra works, I change the timeline so they're close in age. In this one, Jesse and Sombra are around 18-19.  
> Title from Battlefield by Svrcina

Sombra knows pain intimately.

It is perhaps the one constant in her life. When everything is in shambles, when there seems to be no pattern to the chaos that surrounds her, Sombra knows she can count on pain to be at her side.

Pain has made her sharper, has made her meaner, has made her everything she needed to be to survive.

That’s awfully poetic, she knows, but she thinks she deserves some poetry at this point. She won’t exactly have much chance for it in the future, given that she’ll be dead soon.

There’s not much else she can do to try and survive. She’s sitting against a cold wall in a dark alley, with a stab wound in her side, several shattered ribs, and a broken leg, all results of an unfortunate encounter with one of her targets. Blood seeps out of her, staining her clothes. Her leg is bent at an unnatural angle. She feels like she’s burning.

Finally, after all these years, she is running out of luck. She is going to bleed out in this alley, in excruciating pain, unable to walk, unable to even move, knowing that no one would come if she calls for help.

This was it.

There is nothing left. Not for her, at least.

She always knew this was going to be the outcome. All her efforts, no matter how strong, no matter how desperate, were never going to be enough to save her from an early death. The kind of death that was awarded to orphans and street kids and gang members.

And yet, despite it all, she wants to live. She wants to fight. She wants to scream and rage and mourn. She wants… she wants… she wants…

She wants to call Jesse.

It would be selfish. It would be  _ so  _ selfish to call Jesse. To make him listen to her die, knowing that there’s nothing he can do to help her. It’s the kind of thing that would make him crazy. That would ruin him.

But what she’s feeling is the kind of want that fills her chest until it’s pouring out of her faster than her own blood. It’s the kind of want that grips her heart so tight she can feel it stutter in its beating. It’s the kind of want that suffocates her, wraps its cold hands around her neck until she can no longer breathe.

It’s the kind of want that gives her just enough strength to pull up a hologram and type in a number she had memorised the minute Jesse had come to her to tell her that he was joining Overwatch’s black ops division, that he was leaving her. He had been kind enough to leave her a number, in case of emergencies. In case she ever needed his help.

She presses the call button. It doesn’t finish the first ring before he picks up. “How do you have this number?” Jesse snaps. He’s suspicious and hostile, but it’s still him. It’s still her Jesse.

Sombra can’t help the pained chuckle that falls from her lips, nor can she help the way she whimpers right after at the way her laughter upsets her injuries. “Hey,  _ Vaquero _ ,” she whispers, letting her eyes close as her head falls back, hitting the stone building behind her with a dull thump.

“Sombra?” Jesse says, his tone wiped clean of any suspicion. He always was too trusting when it came to her. “Are you okay?”

Her chest tightens as it threatens to let out a sob. She’s not okay. She’ll never be okay again. She’ll never even have the chance. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted to hear your voice before…” she trails off, not sure whether she wants to tell him about her fast approaching death.

“Before what?” he asks, voice painfully soft and sweet, like it always is when he talks to her. It makes Sombra smile, just a little.

“Nothing, nothing. Just, uh… can you talk to me? Tell me how your day was, the juicy Blackwatch gossip, the latest mission, anything. I need to hear your voice as I go.” Her mind is starting to muddle, making her words slur. She’s glad she called him, no matter how selfish it might be, because the thought of dying without hearing his voice one last time makes her ache more than the bullets lodged in her side.

“Go where? Are you in danger?” Jesse’s beginning to panic now, she can tell. He always was an open book.

Sombra feels the first tear leak from her eye, trailing down her cheek slowly. It tickles, but she’s too tired to wipe it away. “Away. I’m going away. Dying. Bleeding out.” On the other end of the line, he inhales sharply. “And, uh… it hurts. I don’t want to do it alone. Please stay with me.”

There’s silence, and for a moment, Sombra wonders if he hung up, if he’s going to try and come save her. It would be fruitless and painful for the both of them, so she’s relieved when he speaks again. “O-- okay, Darlin’. I’ll stay.” His voice is trembling, but it still makes Sombra relax.

“Thank you,” Sombra mumbles, some of the tension leaking out of her body. “I need you to talk to me. Distract me. Please.” She has never begged before, but she needed to, right now, needed Jesse to stay on the line, no matter what it took.

Sombra had lived her whole life alone. She didn’t want to die alone too. She wanted Jesse to be there with her, to comfort her, love her, hold her, even if it was only with his words.

“Okay. Okay. Um… I, uh, I beat Reyes at air hockey today, for the first time. We’ve got a machine in the common room. He’s crazy good at it, but I’ve been practicin’.” Jesse’s voice, no matter how much it trembled, was like a balm for her wounds, for her fear. The words wrapped themselves around her like a warm blanket, helping her drift off to sleep.

“We, um, we made a bet, too, so-- so now Reyes has t--to do all my paperwork for a week,” he continued, voice cracking several times. He was crying, but trying to hide it. Trying to be strong for her. To let her die without having to worry about him.

“Tell me more,” Sombra requests, closing her eyes as she ignores everything but Jesse’s soft, southern accent.

There’s a sniffle before he speaks again. “Well, I’ve discovered that I-- I quite like tea. Especially, uh, especially peppermint. It-- It’s good. Ana sometimes makes it f-- for me after training. It’s her maternal instinct, I think. She sees me as a kid, and she, uh, wants to care for me. But it’s nice. She’s nice.” Several quiet sobs carry across the line, though they’re muffled, like he’s trying to hide it. “You and Ana would get along, I think.”

He continues babbling about nothing in a way that means everything. He tells her about his new friends. He tells her about how good the food in the cafeteria is. He tells her about how Ana Amari keeps knitting him scarves for some reason.

Sombra doesn’t know whether to cry or smile.

She does neither, instead just sitting there and listening, not wanting to miss a single word. 

Eventually, though, she has to cut in. He’s in the middle of talking about Blackwatch’s monthly movie night when she admits, “Jesse… I’m scared.” Her mind continues to get darker, her thoughts continue to blur. Everything is cold and foggy. Everything’s happening too fast.

She doesn’t want to go. She wants to stay, to find Jesse and make up for all the time they lost while he was gone. She wants to hold his hand and watch a movie and laugh like they’re just normal teenagers.

“Don’t be, Darlin’. It-- it’s okay. I will always love ya. Always. I swear it.” The words soothe Sombra, no matter how sad and scared and panicked Jesse sounds when he says them.

“I love you,” she gasps out through her shortening breaths. It feels monumental that she tells him this, even though she had told him before.

“I love you so, so much, Sombra.” The words are deliberate and filled with the kind of passion and honesty that used to scare Sombra. Now it just gives her peace. Makes her smile.

She wants to respond, even though she’s not sure what to say, but just as she opens her mouth, she feels the darkness overtake her. Jesse calls for her, but there is no one left to answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Sombra died. She died from a stab wound and shattered ribs and a broken leg in a dark alley, alone save for Jesse McCree’s voice over the phone. She died painfully and tragically, but with a smile on her face nonetheless. She  _ died. _

Which is why it’s so surprising to her when she opens her eyes to stare at a stark white ceiling. There’s a steady beeping to her right. She feels floaty and weird in a way she can’t place.

She blinks once. Twice. Three times.

The ceiling stays the same. The beeping stays the same. The floaty feeling stays the same.

She turns her head to the right. There’s a machine that she recognises as a heart monitor, with wires attached to her. 

She turns her head to the left. Jesse is there, sitting in a chair next to the cot she’s lying on. He’s asleep, head tilted back, snoring slightly. The position doesn’t look entirely comfortable, and Sombra knows his neck will be sore when he wakes. His face is red and blotchy, and Sombra can see the still-glistening tear tracks lining his cheeks.

On instinct, she reaches out for him, but before her hand can connect, Sombra pauses.

She died. She  _ died _ . So how is she here, alive in a hospital with Jesse sitting next to her?

Eventually, after staying still and thinking about it for a moment, Sombra decides that this is one of the dreams people get right before they die. When their neurotransmitters go crazy, creating a fantasy for them to slip into before their death.

The realisation makes her sad. She was almost gone now. Never again would she see Jesse, not for real. He would tear himself apart with guilt and anger and sadness, she knew. It almost made her regret calling him. Sombra could have died alone, without him, and he would have been none-the-wiser. 

At the same time, she’s glad to have gotten the chance to say goodbye. To hear him one last time.

And now, she gets to see him for a few seconds, even if it’s just in her head. She looks closely at the image of Jesse, sleeping next to her. Her lips curl into a smile as her eyes close. She’s ready now. 

The fantasy slips away into darkness.

* * *

Sombra wakes up again.

The ceiling is the same. The beeping is the same. The floaty feeling is less intense, but undeniably still there. She frowns.

This isn’t supposed to happen. The fantasy is over. She should be dead.

Sombra doesn’t feel dead. She feels alive, with sharp pain in her side and her leg. A pain strong enough to make her groan.

There’s suddenly a clicking sound, like heels against a hard floor. “You’re awake,” says an unfamiliar voice. Sombra looks away from the ceiling, eyes landing on a blonde woman in a lab coat. Her light hair was pulled into a tight bun, and the circles under her eyes contrasted her pale skin. “I’m Dr. Angela Ziegler.”

“Sombra,” Sombra introduces herself, voice scratchy and dazed. She’s also slurring slightly, and dully realises that she’s probably hopped up on painkillers.

Dr. Ziegler smiles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I do a few tests, to make sure everything’s okay?” When Sombra’s eyes narrow in suspicion, she clarifies, “The tests are perfectly harmless, I promise. If you want, we can wait for Jesse to come back before we start.”

Jesse’s name strikes something inside her, despite her jumbled, drugged mind. Sombra jolts into a sitting position, the speed of which makes her head feel light and spots dance in her vision. Dr. Ziegler moves towards her, hands outstretched to touch her, but the gesture stops when Sombra instinctively flinches backwards.

Jesse. She had called Jesse as she was dying. She had died.

“I’m... alive,” she gasps, looking around the room with crazed movements. It’s a hospital room, which she had known before, but it’s only now that she fully processes what it means.

She’s really alive.

“Yes. You’re lucky. Me and a few other agents were on a relief mission in Dorado, so when Jesse messaged us, we were able to find you quickly. It was touch-and-go for a while, but you’ve pulled through the worst of it,” Ziegler says, her tone a practiced calm.

Sombra’s breath catches in her lungs. “I don’t...” she starts, not quite sure how she plans on ending that sentence. She blinks, slowly, trying to sort through her thoughts.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Ziegler assures her, taking a hesitant step closer. “Everything is okay.”

“Is Jesse alright?” Sombra asked, turning her violet eyes towards the doctor, desperate to be told that Jesse was fine, that he hadn’t been tearing himself apart with guilt and fear and anger and grief, all because she had been stupid enough to call him, because she had subjected him to listening to her life slipping away.

The doctor doesn’t tell her that, instead pausing before saying, “He’s… worried about you. But other than that, he’s been coping.” Sombra knows that means Jesse has been doing horribly. That he has been upset and scared and awful. 

Because of  _ her _ .

Sombra swears, gritting her teeth together as she sits up further. Dr. Ziegler begins to object, but Sombra ignores her. “Has he been eating?” When Jesse got upset, he would skip meals and avoid sleep. His mind would be too clouded with worries, and he’d forget basic self-care.

Before he went to Blackwatch, Sombra would be there to remind him to take care of himself, to order takeout and practically force him to sleep. Now, though, it was entirely possible that Jesse had no one left to care for him like that.

Dr. Ziegler eyes her cautiously. “Not as much as I would like, but Captain Amari has managed to feed him a few meals. She even managed to drag him away from your side a little bit ago so he would have a proper dinner with her and Fareeha.”

Sombra relaxes at that, if only slightly. Her memories of the phone call she and Jesse shared before her almost-death were fuzzy, but she has vague recollections of him mentioning Ana Amari. The sniper had apparently taken on something of a parental role in Jesse’s life.

“And has he been sleeping?”

“Erratically. I even had to bring a second cot in here so he would sleep in a bed instead of that chair,” she said, gesturing to the uncomfortable-looking metal chair that had been dragged to the corner of the room. “He cares very much for you.”

Sombra’s lips quirk into something like a smile. Before she can come up with a flippant response, she catches the sound of voices approaching. She whips her head toward the door, outside of which the voices are coming from.

“And make sure you eat the rest of this. I mean it, Jesse. It’s not healthy to skip so many meals,” says a woman with an Egyptian accent. Ana Amari, if Sombra had to guess.

“I will. Scouts honor,” Jesse responds, and Sombra feels her stomach swoop at his voice, even if it is tinged with fatigue and worry. It’s still him, after all. She hasn’t seen him in so long that she had gotten used to the feeling of missing him.

The doors swish open in a smooth motion, revealing Ana Amari and Jesse, both of whom freeze when they catch sight of her awake. There’s a bag of food in Jesse’s hand, but it sags as his grip on it loosens in shock.

Sombra’s eyes scan Jesse before they lock with his, and her first thought is, ‘He has a new hat.’ His new hat is still a cowboy hat, but it’s fancier, and Sombra wonders if he made it himself. At the very least, he seems to have decorated it with bullet casings.

Neither the hat nor her thoughts on the matter are very profound, but they seem important to Sombra in her pain-killer addled mind.

Jesse doesn’t seem to notice her fascination with his new accessory, instead staring at her with burning intensity. The tension comes crumbling down when Jesse snaps out of his stupor and practically races to her side in three long strides. “Sombra,” he gasps, and there’s so much raw emotion in his voice when he says her name like that that it makes her chest tight.

He’s kneeling in front of her now, and his hand reaches out to cup her face before he freezes, fingers so close to her jaw. His eyes ask so many questions:  _ are you okay _ , and  _ can I touch you _ , and  _ what happened _ , and  _ is this a dream _ .

Sombra can’t answer, not verbally. She doesn’t know why, she just can’t. Instead, she wraps her fingers around Jesse’s outstretched wrist, guiding his hand so it cups her cheek.

Gently, so,  _ so _ gently, Jesse leans forward and presses their foreheads together, closing his eyes as he does so. “I thought,” he says, breathless, “I thought I’d lost you.” His other hand comes to cup her neck, and Sombra knows enough to know that he’s not just comforting her, but also checking for a pulse. Checking for proof that she was okay. That this wasn’t some fantasy or dream.

She knows he found her heartbeat when he relaxes, sagging into her.

“Sombra,” he breathes, thumb stroking her cheekbone as he repeats her name in a desperate plea. For what, Sombra isn’t sure.

“Jesse,” she replies, sinking into him.

Their ragged breaths are the only sound for a while before Jesse speaks again, sounding almost wrecked. “I didn’t think… I wasn’t sure you’d wake up,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Sombra inhales sharply. “I’m okay,” she reassures him, letting the rest of the world fade away. “I’m here.”

“Sombra, you… you… you  _ died _ . Your heart stopped,” Jesse says, and there’s a thickness in his voice that pulls at Sombra’s heart. “They kept tellin’ me not to get my hopes up. That you might not… make it.”

“I did, though. I made it. I’m okay,” she says, lifting her hand so it rests on the nape of his neck. His hair is longer, and she can’t help but rub a few strands of it between her fingers. It’s soft in a way it never had been before. She supposes that he has proper shampoo now that he’s not a gangster.

A wet chuckle falls from Jesse’s lips and he opens his eyes. They’re red and watery. “I should be reassurin’ you, not the other way around,” he mumbles, thumb stroking Sombra’s cheek softly.

Sombra leans into his touch. “I don’t need comfort,” she objects, despite the fact that she really, really does.

Jesse smiles, and it’s tinged with both happiness and sadness. “You almost… y’know.” He takes a deep breath. “You almost died. I think you deserve a bit of comfort.”

Normally, Sombra would disagree and pull away slightly, but, well, Jesse was right. She did almost die. So, instead of resisting, she moves over, making room for Jesse on the cot she is lying on. “Hold me?” she asks, her voice more quiet and vulnerable that it had ever been.

Jesse doesn’t need to be told twice, immediately slipping under the covers with her. “I’ve got you,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around her and letting her sink into him. “I’ve got you.”

Sombra falls asleep not long after, relaxing into Jesse.

When she wakes up, Jesse will still be there, will hold her close as he tells her that she can join Blackwatch, if she wants. That he had pulled some strings to get a position for her. He’ll look away as he says this, blushing fiercely.

Sombra will say yes, of course. She’ll pull him in and kiss him, softly and desperately all at once. She’ll laugh and smile and hope like she thought she’d never be able to again.

But in this moment, she simply sleeps, with Jesse holding her close. And that’s enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Tell me what you think! <3


End file.
